"Nostalgia is a file that removes the rough edges

from the good old days."

-Doug Larson

"You don't, do you? You don't, can't kill me now that you've heard this little tidbit of information, can you? Because I may be making things up like a deranged man who accidentally dropped cocaine in his coffee, it might be truthful. And that very possibility is worth working with a 'mad' laddie, don't you agree? So, what is your answer, Kozumi Ieyasu-san?"

A dreadful tension fell across the air, seeming to suffocate all who breathed it. But that was just a farce. Since it was a possibility that, no matter how much it angered her and how much she couldn't believe in it, she couldn't not act because the bait was simply that tempting.

Or at least, that was what Deku, Gray, and all the other living beings thought to themselves as Ieyasu stared down Deku.

"No. It isn't worth it... If you wanted me to sacrifice myself to kill that bastard, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But... But Zero, he doesn't deserve to go through that again. He never was one for killing. I don't want him to go through that downward spiral again... The past is better left in the past. Stranger, please just go now. I will never reveal his location to you as long as I live. I won't kill you if you leave now."

'Never one for killing... Is this woman being serious right now? He's the very opposite of that.'

Her eyes drifted to his abdomen, and Deku couldn't bring himself to care about the blatant inaccuracy of that statement. For he was oh so very cold. So cold, in fact, that he was surprised he hadn't turned into an ice sculpture. The quiet beat and hum of adrenaline that had been on the edge of his consciousness suddenly exploded forth in an inescapable melody of death; if he didn't silence the beat soon, he would die. While he wasn't exactly against the idea by any means, he had to complete his goals before he inevitably succumbed to death's embrace.

(Midoriya Izuku was already a dead man walking. He had been for a while now. And the living world wouldn't accept the dead amongst their midst. Sooner or later, he would truly be extinguished in every sense of the word. That was undeniable. He just couldn't let it happen before he succeeded with his revenge. It broke him, but it kept him from extinguishing himself. It had always been like that, ironically enough, throughout his entire life.)

So despite the fact that it burned seeing as this entire trip that he had undertaken was a waste of time, and that he was oh so close to getting the outcome he desired, he put most emphasis on the fact that he was literally about to bleed out and die. He twisted his body so as to not aggravate the injury on his abdomen before slowly raising himself up all while applying pressure on the wound and hoping that he wouldn't lose any more blood.

The members of the Milka Cafe did nothing but stare at him, but Deku was thankful enough that they didn't choose to not honor their promise. With how much this Ieyasu character seemed bent out of shape on their not-so-dead-leader and his killing tendencies, he wouldn't have been surprised if she decided that the little blight that wanted Zero to actively kill someone would be worth just killing before it stirred up more trouble. It wasn't like the Cafe was known as the honorable sort by any stretch of the definition. They had gone all out to kill him the moment they confirmed that he didn't have the money for their services.

He frowned when the blood continued to gush without pause. At this rate, he wouldn't even be able to make it halfway to the hospital before he would die of blood loss. And he doubted the members of the Cafe would be so kind as to call an ambulance here and gift the members of the police the opportunity that they had been so eagerly waiting for. Or let him do it, for that matter. (He couldn't do it in the first place because he was still missing and still a villain by society's standards.)

He had never come into contact with those so-called 'underground doctors' either because there was no reason to.

That left only one option.

"Would you mind getting me some rubbing alcohol? And some string. Most importantly, lots and lots of water."

One of the member's grunted in irritation, but Ieyasu silenced him with a single sharp glare.

"It's our fault that he's like this in the first place. I will not permit any possible harm to his student anymore. Give him everything he asks. That wound is very, very serious. He's being considerate enough not to ask for an ambulance, so this is the least we can do."

A figure in the back threw back the robe dangling in front of her face and loudly proclaimed:

"Got it, boss!"

Before skipping out of the room like a chipmunk on drugs.

Deku felt his time ticking, so he began preparations as fast as he could. He slowly kneeled back down on the ground, leaning at an angle on the wall before gently pulling up his shirt and ripping it with his teeth. He couldn't leave it on his skin with all of the blood it had soaked up and he wasn't quite sure if he had the coordination to take off a shirt at this moment. Blood oozed a little more, but compared to before, not much was coming out. Although he was sure that the gradual leakage of blood, on top of all that he had already lost, would be enough to leave him as dead as a doornail. That's why he had to stitch it together and then hurry on over and get a blood transfusion from Toga.

The cut was clean and precise, albeit a little jagged near the end. It was deeper than a cut, but not too dangerous; that had to be the reason he had lasted this long without actually dying. The area around the cut was a little puffy but it didn't look infected. He'd have to wash it and disinfect it anyway though. He breathed in and out, the slight fog of bloodloss dissipating as his eyes shone with pure concentration.

It was that moment that the member appeared once more with all of the supplied Deku needed.

She had even included a bandage, which was obvious in hindsight. She gently set the material beside him, eyes a weird mix of morbid curiosity and... excitement? Smugness? Whatever it was, nothing seemed to be obviously wrong with the materials in front of him. He would just have to take the chance that she was up to something. He really didn't have a choice at this point.

He had no energy left.

He was going to do the stitch on fumes.

"Gray, give me some more adrenaline. I need to stay awake for this. I... can't blackout now..."

{If I make you produce any more adrenaline, you might go into shock-!}

His eyes were clear and seemed to contain eternity within them.

"Then that's a chance... I'll have to bet on... And you'll be monitoring me the whole time..."

The gold light narrowed in silts as Gray silently pondered before coming to a conclusion. She would do as he asked, but she would also prepare a backup. Because despite Deku belief in his invincibility (or rather, her), she wasn't confident in stabilizing him when he had already gotten this close to death's door. She was sure that no one would thank her for it, but she didn't care at this point.

Screw their feelings, she just needed him alive.

{Sure.}

He nodded and resisted the urge to flinch at the sudden burst of energy that had just flooded his system once more. He felt like he was all-powerful and that nothing could stop him, ever, but he didn't let it get to his head. He quickly rinsed his wound with the water, careful to get every part of it even as it stung. Then quickly yet carefully, he dribbled the rubbing alcohol onto the needle and let it sit for thirty seconds.

'...This really is a movie trope. But I need to do this, so there's not much choice... Okay, here we go.'

He began to stitch the wound, no longer wasting any time. He had to make sure to be careful enough to not restrict the blood flow, but not let any blood out; that was the point of stitching something after all. But because of that, each and every stitch was agonizingly slow. Each time he poked the needle through his skin, he felt his mind getting foggier and foggier as the pressure caused little dots of blood to pop up and slowly fall down his already bloodied chest. He looked like he had just come out of a murder scene.

Finally, he threaded the last loop of the stitch on his injury. The needle dropped to the ground out of his shaking hands as he felt his head going blank. Still, he scrounged up the last little bits of willpower and energy he had left to tie the end of the stitch into a knot and wrap the bandage around his torso. But.

That was it.

That was all he could do before he inevitably collapsed to the floor, blank and blurry eyes only managing to catch a line of numbers popping out amid the blank whiteness of the leftover bandages. It was, oddly enough, ingrained in his memory. It seemed oddly nostalgia too.

'133-676-666'

And then, he was out like a light.